Page 57 of Rival Season
I eye the little red number again, mulling it over. If Chadwick saw me heading to Penn’s party wearing this, he’d think we’re still going strong. Not to mention Chadwick always hated how I dressed, complaining my jumpers werefrumpy. He begged meto dress sexier—especially for his games—but I just didn’t feel comfortable dressing that way.
Wouldn’t it be a little fun to see the look on Chadwick’s face if I wore this? My mind sways to Penn, and I can’t help but wonder if he’d like me in the skimpy red ensemble…would his eyes graze over my legs, or land on my bare shoulders? The thought has my skin tingling. I shake my head. Penn and I aren’t real, so thinking like that doesn’t serve any purpose. The dress would just be to make Chadwick jealous, no more…no less.
I take the hanger from Ally and hand her the leather jacket so I can try it on.
She claps her hands together in excitement.
The dressing room is right by the dresses, so I slip inside and remove my warm, comfy clothing. When I slip the red dress from the hanger I discover it’s actually a mini skirt and top pinned together. I pull the silky skirt up my thighs, I’m surprised by how soft the inside of the fabric is. I expected it to be itchy, but the silk glides over my skin. The skirt zips right up, hugging my hips nicely. The top is more complicated because it’s completely backless. I cover my chest with the scrap of fabric then swing the curtain open so Ally can tie the straps for me. There are several little ties that crisscross in the back.
It takes a moment for Ally to figure it out, but soon she’s done. “Okay, spin!”
I do a twirl, eyeing myself in the mirror inside the dressing room. The outfit fits me like a glove, but the skirt is dangerously short. If I reach my arms too high the skirt will ride up and show my whole butt. I turn in the mirror, eyeing every angle. I must admit, I look good. I’m tall and lanky, but the way the skirt and top fits my body enhances the subtle curves I do have.
“Hazel, you look so sexy.” Ally giggles. “Penn will love it. You'll have him raising his Canadian flag in this little number, girl.” Ally winks, and heat rushes to my cheeks.
“Is it too much?” I ask, wondering if I’ll have the confidence to wear it.
“Girl, it’s your man’s birthday! There’s no such thing as too much.”
I turn once more, checking out my backside. Dang, it looks killer. The price tag hangs out the back of the skirt, so I look at it and hiss out a pained breath. “Forty bucks. That’s more than I can splurge on a dress I’ll only wear once.”
“Dresses are half off today!” The teenage girl from the counter yells. “You look hot, by the way!”
Ally and I laugh. “Thank you!” I yell back.
“Only twenty bucks; I think it’s a sign,” Ally whispers.
My gaze lands on the perfect leather jacket in her arms. I can’t buy them both. I have to choose.
For once in my life, I choose the frivolous option. It pains me to leave the classic leather jacket behind, but I think the look on Penn’s face when he sees me in the little red number will be totally worth it.
I meanChadwick’sface.
Yes, it’sChadwick’sreaction that I bought the dress for.
CHAPTER 21
PENN
I lean backin the red pleather booth at Moe’s Diner and take a sip of coffee. The scalding, bitter liquid burns my tongue and I wince. “Ouch.”
My sister grins. “Don’t hurt yourself, old man.”
“Please, I’m a spring chicken,” I respond as I reach for a laminated menu.
“Seniors’ menu is on page seven,” Cassie says. “If you need reading glasses, I can ask Donna to lend you hers.”
“Shut it, you little twerp. That’s no way to talk to the person buying you lunch,” I say, but I’m laughing. It’s my birthday today, and it hasn’t sucked so far. I woke up this morning to find that Ally had baked me cupcakes, and Fisher and Noah had bought me a book titled “Trivia for Kids.” I hadn’t mentioned my birthday coming up, so I was surprised they even remembered.
“Sorry.” Cass takes a sip of her soda, then smirks. “I’ll respect my elders from now on.”
I’d complain that my teenage sister is a smartass…but I won’t because she definitely gets it from me.
I’m about to ask Cassie how classes are going when Donna—our middle-aged waitress whose hair is so big it looks like a parrot could make a nest in it—comes up to our table andtouches my shoulder. “Ready to order, sugar?” Donna coos at me.
I nod at Cassie, indicating she should go first.
“Mushroom omelet, please,” Cassie says, her eyes dancing knowingly.
